One connection I see between novelists and terrorists is that we both attempt to alter consciousness.

Eye contact was a delicate matter. A quarter second of a shared glance was a violation of agreements that made the city operational.

Talent is more erotic when it's wasted.

In our world we sleep and eat the image and pray to it and wear it too.

Freud is finished, Einstein's next.

Clouds are no deterrent. Clouds intensify the drama, trap and shape the light.

Mirrors and images. Or sex and love. These are two separate systems that we miserably try to link.